


Intrepidum

by piningly



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, At least - not yet., Canon Divergent, Character Development, F/M, Moody Assholes who (don't) have feelings, No War!, Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5031388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piningly/pseuds/piningly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beatrice Prior. First Jumper. Abnegation. Stiff. </p>
<p>Tris has been called a lot of names, but this is the first time she's chosen her own. With her family being torn apart by the decisions made by her and her brother, with initiates who want her to fail her training and with a whole new faction to make her place in, the last thing she is going to do is fail. And the hell if some asshole of an instructor thinks he can stop her from succeeding in the only thing she's ever fought for.</p>
<p>She will not bow; Tris Prior is Dauntless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intrepidum

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I'm a terrible person. I was watching Divergent the other day and these plot bunnies just wouldn't go away! My aim is to update this at least once a week, and whilst I'm at it update A Man of His Word at the same time.  
> PSA: I'm leaning on Movie!Eric for this fic. Book!Eric just wouldn't cut it.  
> PPSA: I'm making this up as I go along - it will follow most of Divergent but will differ in some ways! Currently unbeta'd - I'm hoping to fix that soon!

It’s cold outside. Beatrice’s skin develops goosebumps as she stands vigil with the rest of her faction, waiting for the sun to rise and shed some warmth across the dark expanse of the road leading from their compound to Erudite’s grounds. She keeps her eyes trained on the shambles of what used to be busy buildings but have now fallen prey to time and disrepair. 

“They’re coming,” Her gaze flits to their faction leader, taking a split second to search her memories for his name. Eaton, Marcus Eaton, Beatrice remembers. He’s a tired looking figure, wrapped in their faction’s simple Abnegation grey and she wonders not for the first time what made him choose this life, when Erudite would have accepted him with open arms if he’d stayed, and he wouldn’t be forced to spend many a dawn waiting to feed the Factionless whilst his own people dismissed how hollow their own stomachs felt.

Sometimes, in the back of her mind where nobody else can hear her and judge her for her selfishness, she wishes that she were able to save some of the supplies they give up for others without a thought for her own family. They don’t say it, but they’re hungry too.

“Hand me the grains,” Marcus continues, and Beatrice bows her head and averts her eyes respectfully, balancing the provisions in their building heshen sacks agains her chest and walking the small distance over to the edge of the concrete which marks the end of their land. Her hands are dry as she passes everything over; she can already hear the footfalls of the Factionless making their way towards them. How long will their food give them? How many people will it feed?

Watching as her family follow her lead and hand their sacks across, Beatrice knows that they will go back to bed feeling like they’ve done something good, but she has to close her eyes as she listens to their leader greeting the crowd that arrives. She knows what those without a faction look like, and she’s not going to be selfish enough to stand here and watch them, silently pitying them alongside the rest of Abnegation. After all, pity helps nobody, and she won’t ever be selfless enough to truly be happy that they’re donating their own comfort to others.

No, Beatrice Prior won’t ever pity the Factionless, but when the time comes and she has the opportunity to leave this place and join somewhere different, she won’t need to.

She’s going to save them.


End file.
